


Drugs

by Jojora



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Adderall Abuse, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:25:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojora/pseuds/Jojora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this tumblr prompt that was sent to me:<br/>In the first season Connor mentions having Adderall, and then Jack hinted that Connor might actually have a drug problem. Can you write something angsty about Connor using drugs and Oliver finding out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Connor anxiously shifted through his outline, muttering words to himself, as he sat perched on the edge of the couch. He read over the analysis of a constitutional stop again, trying desperately to memorize the case names. It felt hopeless. There were too many things and not enough space in his brain. He reached for his coffee cup and brought it to his lips to take a sip, just to discover it was empty. Sighing, he put down his papers and his mug and let his head droop as he rubbed his eyes. 

Pulling out his phone, he opened up the group text he had going with the other interns. He debated asking them about having another study group, but then he changed his mind and scrolled to another name in his phone. 

“Finals are kicking my butt. Can you help?” he texted. 

The reply buzzed back a minute later. “$8 each”

“Fine. Can I come over now?”

“Sure.”

Connor sighed and got up from the couch. He was just slipping on his shoes when he heard the floorboards creak and saw Oliver shuffling out of the bedroom. 

“Where are you going?” Oliver asked sleepily. 

“Just out for a walk.” 

Oliver crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. “It’s almost one in the morning. Come to bed.” 

“I will soon. I just want to decompress a little from studying first. I’ll be right back,” Connor responded.

Oliver sighed, but nodded and went back to bed.

Connor felt terrible about lying to him, but somehow he didn’t think that Oliver would take it very well if he mentioned that he was going out to buy Adderall to help him study, considering the fact that he thought Connor was a recovering drug addict and all. And Connor had always relied on Adderall at finals time before, and considering how shitty his semester had been dealing with other things like murders and such, he didn’t think now was a great time to suddenly lose that advantage.

So he went out, and he bought several of the little orange pills in a Ziploc bag. His dealer friend had always had a crush on him, so he had also thrown in a couple other mystery pills, winking at him and claiming they were “an added bonus just for fun.” He shoved the bag in his jacket pocket and made his way back to the apartment. He wouldn’t use them tonight, because he was already exhausted and it would only be so effective. Much better to wake up tomorrow and study, and then take one right as he was first starting to lose steam. When he got home, he transferred the bag to his backpack, zipping the small pocket shut. Then he went into the bedroom and stripped down to his boxers before curling up next to his sleeping boyfriend and falling asleep.

He woke up late the next morning. Oliver rolled over as Connor got out of bed. “It's Saturday. Sleep more,” Oliver grumbled.

“Can’t. Have to study.” Connor replied as he pulled on a t-shirt and went out to the kitchen to make coffee. 

Oliver appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later. “You study too much,” he whined. 

Connor smirked. “If I didn’t, I would never be in law school and then I would never have met you. So you should appreciate it.” 

Oliver just rolled his eyes. 

“You can go back to bed, Ollie. There’s no reason for you to be up.”

“No, the bed is too empty” Oliver pouted. 

Connor laughed at that as he sipped his coffee. “Suit yourself.” He walked over to the couch where he’d left his study materials out the night before and started to get settled. 

“Connor,” Oliver whined, elongating the r at the end for an almost obnoxiously long time. 

“Yes, Oliver?” Connor asked in a casual and polite tone, chuckling to himself.

“I feel like you’re cheating on me with your books.” Oliver grumbled. “Take me on a date!”

“Ollie, it’s finals time. I have to focus.” Connor’s voice was less playful now as he started to pay attention to his outline again. 

Oliver huffed and shuffled back to bed. 

Connor worked through the morning. Around noon, Oliver got up and made himself some food. Then Oliver lazed around for a while as Connor worked, clearly bored because Connor wasn't focused on him. Eventually he got up again and hopped in the shower. 

Connor sat back and stretched, trying to relieve the stress and tension that always built up as he tried to study. His mind was starting to get hazy from staring at his outline for too long, and he knew he still had 3 more classes to cover. At this point, it was late in the afternoon and he didn’t anticipate Oliver would be leaving the apartment. He didn’t know when his next opportunity would be to take an Adderall, so he reached into his bag and popped one of the pills, securely closing it and zipping it away after. 

He knew from experience it would take about 30 minutes for the pill to really take effect, and suddenly he was hit with the genius idea to take a well-deserved study break. Smirking to himself, he stood up and strode over to the bathroom. He knew Oliver was right behind the door, naked and gorgeous as he showered, and he was already half hard thinking about it. Stripping himself of his own clothes, he pushed the door open and without pause he hopped in the shower and immediately pushed Oliver up against the wall. 

Oliver let out a small gasp at the unexpected intrusion, but then grinned at Connor. “I thought you had to study." 

Connor responded by forcefully pushing his lips against Oliver’s. Oliver leaned forward into the kiss and his hands gripped Connor’s hips. Connor tugged at Oliver’s bottom lip with his teeth, and then pulled away and slid down to his knees. 

"Someone's eager," Oliver teased. But then Connor took him into his mouth and his head fell back and his hands fell to Connor’s hair.

Connor bobbed his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks, and swirling his tongue around the tip of Oliver’s cock, working quickly to make him hard. He made a lewd slurping noise as Oliver popped out of his mouth and he stroked him several times before taking him in his mouth again and deep throating him. Oliver moaned and Connor couldn’t help but think how much he loved the feeling. He took pleasure in giving Oliver pleasure. Moaning around Oliver’s cock got him another satisfying reaction as Oliver gasped and tightened his grip in Connor’s hair. He sped up his movements with increased vigor, obsessed with how amazing it felt to make Oliver squirm underneath him. It felt so good. Too good. 

Shit. 

Suddenly Connor realized that his pill had already very much kicked in, but it wasn’t an Adderall pill at all. He knew this feeling. He recognized this feeling. His dealer had mentioned an added bonus just for fun, and Connor realized he must have accidentally taken an ecstasy pill instead. 

But even as he came to this realization, and his logical mind told him this was bad, he didn’t feel worried about it in the slightest. Oliver’s hands in his hair and his moans were taking up all the space in his mind and he felt nothing but pleasure and happiness. He took Oliver all the way down his throat again. 

“Ah, fuck, Connor” Oliver gasped above him. Connor hummed around him and was rewarded with the loudest moan yet. He pulled back and sucked on Oliver’s head as he stroked his length, and Oliver’s body suddenly tensed as he unexpectedly shot spurts of come into his mouth. 

“Sorry” Oliver gasped breathlessly, but Connor swallowed and smirked up at Oliver. He stood up and pulled him into another deep kiss, slow and languid, as his hands gripped tightly at Oliver’s sides. Oliver’s skin was so taut around his muscles and his lips felt so soft and he was breathing heavily as he kissed Connor back and he had his fingers curled around Connor's biceps and everything about him just felt so fucking good. Then Oliver took his cock into his hand and stroked him and it sent electric shocks through his system. He breathed in sharply at the touch. 

Brow furrowing slightly, Oliver pulled back. “Are you okay?” 

“Never been better,” Connor breathed as he leaned forward to capture Oliver’s lips back onto his own. Oliver hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then responded to the kiss again. Connor gripped at the back of Oliver’s hair as Oliver stroked him slowly. Then Oliver flipped them around so that Connor’s back was up against the wall, and trailed the most wonderful feeling kisses down his chest and stomach before taking him into his mouth. 

Connor saw stars at the sensation. “Mmm… fuck” Connor moaned unusually loudly. This time, Oliver frowned as he pulled back and looked up at Connor. Connor whined at the loss of the sensation. 

“Okay, I’m good, but not that good. I’ve barely even done anything,” Oliver remarked. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re so good, Ollie. Please…” the last part came out as a whine. 

Oliver was clearly a little thrown off by how unusually responsive Connor was being, but he resumed his actions. Connor gripped his hair tightly as Oliver put the tip of his tongue on the tip of Connor’s cock, and then took him into his mouth again. He swirled his tongue around and his hand trailed down Connor’s lower back until he pressed a finger up against Connor’s asshole, not entering, just providing a little bit of pressure. Connor let out a cry as the sensations overwhelmed him. Oliver took his time, slow and deliberate. It was a stark contrast to the overzealous blowjob Connor had just given, but it sent shivers through Connor's body and he could feel every brush of Oliver's fingers against his skin and every swirl of his tongue until eventually Connor was shaking and coming and it was definitely the best orgasm he'd ever felt. 

Oliver stood up and Connor eagerly pulled him back in for another kiss, running his hands up and down Oliver’s arms and breathing heavily. “Fuck, that was so good. So, so good,” Connor muttered against Oliver’s lips. 

Oliver smiled, but it was uneasy. “You’re acting weird” he said, pulling away from Connor slightly to look at him. Connor tried to follow his lips for a moment, before realizing that Oliver wasn’t kissing him anymore. 

“That was just so incredible,” Connor breathed. 

“Uh huh.” Oliver didn’t sound convinced and he was staring at Connor, analyzing him. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his body tensed. “Fuck, are you high?” 

“No,” Connor shook his head adamantly but he could tell immediately that Oliver didn’t believe him. He was just starting to come down from the drug, but his body still buzzed with a restless excitement and his fingers were fidgeting and he was sure he looked like a wreck. 

"What are you on?" Oliver demanded. 

Connor just averted his gaze and crossed his arms. 

"Connor, what did you take?" Oliver demanded again, louder this time. 

"Some X... I think," he finally admitted, refusing to look at Oliver. 

“Damn it!” Oliver said forcefully, his voice laced with disappointment and anger. He shut off the shower and got out, wrapping a towel around himself. 

“Ollie, wait,” Connor whined as Oliver walked out of the bathroom. He hastily scrambled out of the shower and followed Oliver into the bedroom, still naked and dripping. 

“Put some clothes on,” Oliver said bitterly as he threw a pair of sweatpants at him. “I can’t fucking believe this.” 

Connor got dressed quickly. Now his body was really coming down from the drug and his head was starting to ache quite a bit. His stomach turned, but he couldn’t tell if it was a result of the comedown, or because of the current tension in the room. 

“Oliver,” he said slowly. The other man had his back turned to him, but turned around at his name. 

“How dare you,” Oliver seethed.

“I’m sorry. It was an accident.” 

“An accident?!” Oliver asked incredulously. “How does one accidentally get high on drugs?” 

Connor flinched at the harshness of his voice. He thought about explaining to Oliver that he had only meant to take an Adderall, but then decided that wouldn’t actually help his case. “I fucked up. I’m sorry,” he said instead, eyes focused on the floor. 

“Not only did you do drugs right here in our apartment, but then you seduce me while high?” Oliver was almost yelling now. “That’s not okay. This is not okay.” 

Connor wanted to respond, but his head was pounding now, and he felt chills under his skin. His stomach lurched suddenly, and this time it was definitely a result of the drug. He brought a hand up to his mouth and tried to breathe, but his stomach lurched again and he gagged. 

“Oh, perfect,” Oliver muttered sarcastically at Connor’s current state. He was clearly very annoyed, but his need to take care of Connor overcame him and he quickly led Connor back to the bathroom where Connor proceeded to immediately get sick in the toilet. Oliver was less than sympathetic as he left Connor on the bathroom floor to deal with the consequences of his life choices. 

The nausea didn't last very long, but Connor remained sitting on the bathroom floor long after it ended, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall, his body shaking, feeling as though he didn't have any energy or motivation to move. At one point, he heard Oliver walk past the open bathroom door, but then quickly leave again. Connor assumed Oliver was just making sure he wasn't dead or something. Eventually, he wearily pushed himself back up from the bathroom floor and turned on the shower again. His whole body ached and his mind felt heavy. He had only taken ecstasy a few times before, and when he was on it he always seemed to forget just how shitty the aftermath was and how depressed it made him feel. He let the warm water soothe him until it started to turn cold. Then he turned the water off and slowly dried himself off and got dressed again. 

When he left the bathroom, he found a glass of water on the floor near the door. He smiled a little at the knowledge that even when Oliver was livid with him, he still cared enough to do something so kind. Connor picked up the water and drank a few sips, letting the cool water soothe his dry mouth and burning throat, before turning to the living room to face the music. 

Oliver was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Connor noticed that he had dug the plastic bag out of his backpack, because it was sitting on the coffee table, along with the studying materials that he was supposed to have spent his day working on. Instead, he’d spent several hours on the bathroom floor puking and shivering and trying not to cry and his brain was now foggy and his body still trembled and it was late in the evening. Nothing was going to get done today.

“Is this where you went last night?” Oliver asked irritably as Connor gingerly sat down on the other side of the couch. 

Connor nodded, but then he realized Oliver wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah,” he croaked. “But I just wanted Adderall to help me study. He gave me a couple of ecstasy pills that I didn’t ask for, and I accidentally took the wrong one.”

Oliver shook his head. “That doesn’t make it any better, Connor.” 

“I’m sorry,” Connor muttered. “I just needed to get through finals.” He knew that his excuses sounded pathetic now, even though he’d never seen a problem with taking Adderall before. But having to admit that he lied to Oliver last night and Oliver’s clear disappointment in him made him regret his decision wholeheartedly. 

Oliver grimaced at his words. He angrily snatched the bag from the table and took it to the kitchen, dumping the pills down the sink drain. Connor remained seated on the couch and made no attempt to stop him. 

“I’m going to bed,” Oliver stated, slamming the empty bag onto the counter and going back into the bedroom without another word. 

As soon as he was gone, Connor slumped down, feeling overwhelmingly sad and alone. He knew that his emotions were very much exacerbated by the after-effects of the drug, but that didn’t make it any easier. His life felt like it was in complete shambles, as he constantly replayed every traumatic memory from the past school year and obsessed over how much Oliver, his only lifeline from all the tragedy, hated him right now. He didn't know how he had gone from an eager first year law student to a life that was so fucked up, and now the only good thing left in his life was angry and the comfort Oliver usually provided was out of his reach. He knew that this was how people got so easily addicted to drugs, because every part of him was aching to text his dealer and get another pill to make this feeling go away. The high wasn't really worth the low, but once he reached the low, all he wanted was the high again. He was already itching for that escape from his own mind, despite knowing just how terrible of a decision that would be.

He swallowed down the lump in the back of his throat as tears fell. A loud sob caught in his chest and he brought his hand up and bit down on his fist to quiet himself. He hated himself for taking the drug and simultaneously had a desperate urge to do it again, and to do so much more of it next time, rather than the short-lived high from this time around. He just wanted to forget all of this pain for awhile. To forget how massively screwed up his life had become. He was reaching for his phone, about to give in, when Oliver slowly shuffled back out of the bedroom. 

“Connor?” His voice was much softer now and he must have heard Connor crying because his demeanor was a lot more sympathetic.

Connor was trembling as he looked over at Oliver with pleading eyes. Oliver approached Connor slowly and pulled him up from the couch. “Come on,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around Connor's back and leading him into the bedroom. He tucked Connor in under the covers and then got in on the other side, wordlessly pulling Connor’s back to his chest and placing a soft kiss on the back of Connor's neck. 

Connor let out another sob and his body shook violently. But Oliver just traced his fingers lightly over Connor’s arm and hummed a random tune until Connor finally drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed this to a multi-chapter fic by request, and also because I loved writing it so much.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that!” Oliver said in frustration. They were standing in the kitchen early the next morning, glaring at each other. 

Connor took a deep breath to try and hold back the annoyance that was building up inside of him. He clenched his jaw slightly. “I’m fine.” He repeated through gritted teeth. 

“I just spent last night watching you completely fall apart. You didn’t look fine.” 

Connor flinched at the words, uncomfortable at being confronted with his own vulnerability. “It was the drugs. I know you’ve never taken X, but it tends to leave you a little depressed afterwards.” Connor’s voice was patronizing, a defensive mechanism for Oliver’s accusations. 

“That was more than ‘a little depressed.’ And let’s talk about the fact that you took ecstasy in the first place!” 

“Accidentally,” Connor reminded him. 

“Bullshit. You accepted the drugs. You can’t tell me you weren’t going to take it eventually.” Oliver had his arms crossed and his voice was hostile, but his eyes were filled with concern. 

Connor looked away from his prying gaze and swallowed. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had no intention of throwing the pills away when the dealer gave them to him. He didn’t even know what they were when he first got them, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had already planned to find out after finals were over. After all, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he’d had the worst year of his entire life. If anyone had a legitimate excuse to get high, it was him.

“Connor, please.” Oliver’s voice was softer now, and he was walking towards Connor, trying to bridge the gap between them. 

Connor shook his head. “I have to go. I have a final tomorrow and Michaela’s having a study group, and since I am now way behind on studying I really need to go to it.” He was backing away from Oliver, headed towards the front door. 

“If you leave right now, don’t expect me to be here when you come back.” 

Oliver’s words cut through the air like a knife, and Connor froze before slowly turning back to Oliver. He stared at him, trying to figure out if he was bluffing. Oliver’s face faltered a bit under his gaze, but he maintained eye contact. 

“Oliver…” Connor’s voice was tentative. 

“I mean it. You can’t just walk out on this conversation.” 

Connor was silent for a beat longer as he tried to figure out how to best approach the suddenly much more intense conversation. He didn’t want to risk losing Oliver, but even as he looked at him, he became angrier and angrier. He couldn’t believe how cold and harsh Oliver was being, when Connor was trying so damn hard to just keep his head above water. Of course, Oliver had no idea about the horror scenes that flashed through his memory constantly, or the overbearing guilt and fear that constantly weighed on him. But it didn’t matter. Oliver was supposed to be a supportive boyfriend and here he was, threatening to leave him over an ecstasy pill. If that was all it took, Connor knew that he could never let Oliver in on the big stuff. Drugs were nothing compared to murder. 

“So that’s it, then? That’s all it takes for you to give up on me?” Connor called the bluff, his voice cracking slightly, partially out of anger and partially because he trying really hard to maintain his composure and not start crying. He knew that it was unfair. His words were a manipulative attempt to guilt-trip Oliver, but he didn’t care. 

And it worked. Oliver’s expression softened into one of guilt and Connor felt a bittersweet twinge of victory at the sight. 

“No, I – “ Oliver faltered. 

Still angry, Connor decided to twist the knife a little bit deeper. “I mean really, I thought I at least meant a little more to you than that.” 

“You do! You mean everything to me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! I just want you to talk to me!” Oliver was frantically trying to take it back now, and Connor took advantage of having the upper hand and seized the opportunity to escape. 

“I have to go to my study group,” he said coolly and then he turned and left the apartment. 

He heard a faint “Connor!” as the door slammed behind him, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. Guilt twisted at his insides, but he knew it was necessary. Oliver was getting too insistent about Connor’s mental state. He was pushing too aggressively and he had no idea just what he would find if he managed to break through Connor’s carefully constructed, although sometimes very flimsy, walls. 

Connor sighed. Finals felt like the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, but he really did have a final tomorrow and he’d lost a lot of precious study time thanks to this mess. If he had thought Adderall was necessary before, now it was his only chance. So he pulled out his phone and sent a text to his dealer. 

He hesitated for a moment, his mind still brimming with all of the emotions of last night and this morning. Then he came to a snap decision and sent a second text: “And I might be interested in some of your other products, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

Connor didn’t return that night. He met his dealer, picked up his drugs, and headed straight to the library. There wasn’t actually a study group, but he knew he would never get anything done in the apartment. He popped an Adderall and pulled an all-nighter before showing up to his final the next afternoon. It was nice to have the pressure of finals to distract him from the turmoil that would otherwise be on his mind.

Despite the tension, he was at least thoughtful enough to reluctantly send Oliver a short and impersonal text to let him know he would be at the library all night. Oliver responded with a much more personal, “Good luck on your final. I love you.” 

Now, as Connor headed home from his final, he was exhausted from staying up all night and sitting for a four hour exam. He hadn’t eaten in 24 hours and he was sleep-deprived and ready to crash before he had to get up and start studying for the next final. But he knew that Oliver was waiting for him at home and that it was going to be a tense situation to walk into, so he braced himself for the worst while hoping to keep things as light and easy as possible.

Opening the front door, he dropped his bag on the floor and headed for the kitchen. Oliver was sitting on the couch and looked over when he walked in. 

“How was the exam?” Oliver asked politely.

“Fine,” Connor replied as he pulled a slice of leftover pizza out of the fridge, not even bothering to warm it up. He wasn't actually all that hungry, but figured he needed something.

“We need to talk,” Oliver said tentatively, standing up and joining Connor in the kitchen.

Connor nodded, his mouth full of pizza. He swallowed. “After finals,” he replied. 

“Connor…” Oliver sounded like he was about to argue but Connor cut him off. 

“Ollie, please. I haven’t slept and I have 3 more finals and I just… I can’t. I don’t have it in me right now.” 

Oliver sighed but he relented. “Okay, fine. But you know I’m always here, right?”

“Yeah,” Connor said dismissively, throwing away the rest of the pizza slice as he headed towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt along the way and leaving Oliver in the kitchen alone. He was far too tired and stressed and on edge to continue any sort of conversation with him. He didn’t trust himself not to say something he would regret. 

He dumped his shirt and pants on the floor on the way to the bed and plopped down on it, setting his alarm to give him a couple hours sleep before he would get up and start studying for the next exam, and allowed his mind to shut down. 

When he woke up to his alarm, he heard Oliver in the kitchen. He groaned inwardly, still not eager to be around Oliver right now, but rolled out of bed anyway because he had a lot of work to do. 

“Hey, do you want some dinner?” Oliver asked as he walked out and pulled out his books to start working. 

“No thanks,” Connor replied, already focused on the work in front of him. 

Oliver didn’t respond and just let him work, but 20 minutes later he set a glass of water and a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes down in front of him. “Please eat,” he said, sounding like a concerned mother. 

Connor sighed and put his work down. He gave Oliver a face, but he pulled the plate towards him nonetheless. Between the stress and the effects of the Adderall he didn’t really feel hungry, but he would eat some of it to appease Oliver. 

“So, what exam do you have next?” Oliver asked.

Connor picked at his chicken with his fork for a moment. He really didn’t like the feeling of trying to make small talk with Oliver when there was so much tension between them. “Constitutional law,” he finally muttered, not looking up from his plate or making any effort to engage in the conversation. 

“Do you think it will be hard?” Oliver continued, and he was clearly trying. 

“Not too bad,” Connor said, putting down his barely eaten plate of food and reaching for the glass of water. 

Oliver nodded. Connor could feel his eyes on him as he put the water back down, but didn’t look up at him. Instead, he picked up a pen off the table and fidgeted with it, clicking it up and down to fill the awkward silence. 

“Did you go out and buy more Adderall?” 

Oliver’s question caught Connor completely off guard and he abruptly stopped clicking the pen. He hadn’t said anything yet, but his momentary freeze up already gave him away and he knew he was caught. Oliver stood up, taking his and Connor’s plate to the kitchen without a word and dropping them onto the counter with a loud clatter. Connor remained on the couch, not sure what to say or do.

“What am I supposed to do?” Oliver sounded exasperated as he came back over to stand by the couch. “Lock you up to keep you from buying drugs? Follow you around?” 

“It’s just Adderall,” Connor mumbled. 

Oliver closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Look, I’m not trying to get high. I’m just trying to get through finals.” 

Oliver rubbed his face and sighed and there was a elongated silence before he finally responded, his words slow and deliberate. “I can’t force you to stop, and I know that school is a lot of pressure, but you’re really freaking me out.” He stared at Connor for a moment and Connor could see an internal conflict waging in his mind. “Do you swear that Adderall is all you’re on?” 

“Yes,” Connor said firmly. It wasn’t technically a lie. He had bought some other drugs when he went back for the Adderall, which he fully intended to use later, but he wasn’t on them now. Plus, he was still extremely angry with Oliver for the way he threatened to leave him this morning and didn't feel like he owed him any further explanation right now. 

Oliver’s lips tightened as he stared at Connor. “I don’t like this, Connor," he said solemnly. He didn’t say anything further. He just went back into the kitchen to do the dishes, and Connor watched him for a minute, waiting to see if he would say anything else, before finally turning back around and forcing his mind to focus on his studying.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the exam period passed rather uneventfully. Oliver wasn’t really speaking to Connor, but since Connor spent most of his time studying and taking finals, he didn’t make much of an effort either. It wasn’t until after his last final had been turned in and he was at Asher’s house with the others celebrating that he allowed himself to even think about the situation.

Laurel had convinced him to take a few shots and he was officially buzzed, and the alcohol broke down the barriers he had put up in his mind. The party was winding down and everyone was starting to head out. An extremely drunk Asher was trying to convince them all to stay and do something ridiculous, but Connor wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy dwelling on how much he really did not want to go home and face Oliver and the inevitable conversation, now that he didn’t have the stress of finals to keep him occupied. 

“Connor, do you want a ride?” Wes’ voice called out to him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah I guess. If you don’t mind,” Connor said numbly. He reluctantly got up from the stool he had been sitting on. He wasn’t drunk, but he knew he had had enough alcohol where he shouldn’t drive. 

He grabbed his backpack from his own car, and then hopped into Wes’ car and headed home, his stomach full of knots. Navigating Oliver was like navigating a land mine. He knew they had to talk, but it was a matter of doing it in a way where Oliver wouldn’t find out about the murders. 

After thanking Wes for the ride, Connor climbed the stairs to the third floor but he paused outside of the doorway, trying to postpone the moment where he would have to go back inside. He hated that home didn’t feel very home-like lately. Subconsciously, he patted his backpack. He had moved his stash of drugs from the front pocket of his backpack to a mint container in the main bag to make it less conspicuous. Despite all of the problems drugs had already caused, feeling the container inside gave him an odd sense of comfort. He knew he had something to get high and escape if he couldn’t cope with the nightmare that his life had become. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally opened the apartment door. He took off his shoes and hung his bag on a chair. He expected Oliver to be there, ready to confront him now that he didn’t have finals as an excuse, but Oliver wasn’t in the apartment. Connor wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, since he had spent so much time preparing for the blow-up and kind of wanted to get it over with. 

He sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing Oliver’s number. Oliver answered on the second ring. 

“Hello? Connor?” There were loud voices in the background and Oliver spoke loudly as though he was trying to hear himself over the noise.

“Hey, I just wanted to know where you were at,” Connor said, and was surprised that his voice shook a little, still rattled from the anticipation of a fight and a little nervous because this was already the most they’d spoken in the past few days. He cleared his throat. 

“My old boss got engaged so we are out for drinks.” 

“Oh,” Connor responded, unsure of what else to say. There was a long pause on the phone line. “What time do you think you’ll be home?” he finally asked. 

“A couple of hours? I don’t plan on staying too late.” 

There was another long silence. 

“Connor? Are you still there?” 

“Yeah, still here.” Connor said dumbly, instinctively running a hand through his hair. He knew he should just hang up on Oliver and let him go back to the party, but for as much as he had been dreading talking to Oliver, he dreaded the idea of being in the apartment alone and having time to dwell on everything even more. 

“Is everything okay?” Oliver’s voice sounded worried now. 

Connor swallowed to try and ignore the intense anxiety that was building in his stomach and throat. He was torn between wanting to ask Oliver to come home because he didn't want to be alone, and wanting to postpone the argument for as long as possible. “Yeah, it’s great. Have fun at your party!” He said a little too cheerfully and then hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment before putting it away. 

He nervously wrung his hands together, hating how silent and empty the apartment suddenly felt and how agitated he felt at the idea of being there alone with his own thoughts. The mint container in his backpack lingered on the back of his mind and he tried to push the thought away. Tried to tell himself that it was a bad idea. But the more he tried to apply logic to the situation, the less he cared about the logic and the more he just wanted to do it. 

Closing his eyes, he hesitated for only a second more, and then he went to his backpack and pulled the container out. Opening it, he dumped out the contents. There was one extra Adderall that he hadn’t used during finals, but he knew that wouldn’t give him anything he wanted now. There were some ecstasy pills, a few Xanax, and some prescription painkillers. His dealer had really covered all the bases. 

Grabbing a couple of the painkillers, he carefully replaced the other pills in the mint container and stashed it back amongst his books. Then he downed the pills and went to lie down on the couch. 

He woke up to the sound of Oliver closing the front door. 

“Hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you,” Oliver said as he toed off his shoes. 

Connor blinked as he tried to orient his mind. He must have drifted off to sleep thanks to the painkillers, but he could definitely still feel their effect because his brain was foggy and light and his thoughts were disjointed and everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. He sat up and rested his back against the armrest of the couch. 

“What time is it?” Connor croaked. 

Oliver checked his phone. “A little after 11.” 

Connor took a second to process the words, and then nodded. 

“Connor?” Oliver asked in concern, and Connor slowly turned his head to look at him, trying hard to focus on him. Oliver was staring at him with a small frown. 

“Hmm?” Connor hummed, his head dropping sideways to rest on the back of the couch. He felt so groggy, and just wanted to lie back down and go back to sleep. 

Connor couldn't focus on Oliver's face because it just seemed so far away, but he thought that maybe Oliver looked angry now. But then he heard Oliver sigh. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Oliver said in defeat.

“Okay,” Connor slurred as he stood up and headed towards the bedroom, Oliver following behind. Connor was asleep again before Oliver was even fully under the covers.


	5. Chapter 5

When Connor woke up again, he rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty. He groaned into his pillow as he remembered last night, and how he had severely underestimated the strength of those painkillers. Oliver knew he was stoned out of his mind last night and had chosen not to say anything then, but that meant he was guaranteed to hear about it this morning. Connor looked out into the living room and could see Oliver sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the TV channels.

Connor would have loved to stay in bed and pretend he was still sleeping to postpone the confrontation, but unfortunately he really had to pee and the layout of the apartment didn’t afford a lot of privacy, which meant as soon as he got up Oliver would know he was awake. Reluctantly, he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

When he came back out, the TV had been shut off and Oliver was looking towards the bedroom door, waiting for Connor. 

“Good morning, sleep well?” Oliver asked dryly. 

Connor didn’t answer the rhetorical question. He just sat on the other side of the couch and pulled a pillow to his stomach, staring determinedly at the wall across from him. 

“What the hell, Connor? You swore it was only Adderall.”

“It was,” Connor muttered. “And then it wasn’t.” 

There was a long pause, and Connor could feel Oliver’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back. 

“Why?” Oliver’s voice wasn’t hostile anymore, and sounded genuinely interested in the answer. 

Connor just shrugged. There were so many potential ways to answer that question, and he couldn’t tell Oliver any of them because they all led back to lying inches away from Sam Keating’s lifeless eyes, and the feeling of using a shovel to chop up a body, and the smell of burning flesh, and the weight of a gun in his hand as he pointed it at his boss, and the feeling of blood on his hands. 

“Connor,” Oliver pleaded, reaching out to coax his arm off the pillow and grab his hand. 

But Connor pulled away. “You weren’t here,” he said in an accusing voice. He knew his anger and blame was completely misdirected, but he pressed on anyway, mostly to deflect the conversation away from himself and also because he needed to take his self-loathing out on someone else. “I said we could talk after finals but I got home and you weren’t even here.” 

Oliver’s face fell, and Connor felt guilty for it, but something malicious in him took pride in it nonetheless. “I - ” he stammered. “I didn’t do that on purpose, it was just… I didn’t mean… it was unexpected.” He sagged a little in defeat. 

“You threatened to leave me,” Connor continued in a low voice. 

“If I could take that back, I would do it in a heartbeat! I never should have said that. It was so stupid. I could never leave you.” 

Oliver looked completely devastated with guilt now, and Connor grew a lot more uncomfortable with how manipulative he knew he was being by making Oliver feel like this was his fault. He wanted to pretend none of this had ever happened, but instead all he could do was take a shaky breath and try to diffuse the situation.

“I can’t lose you, Ollie.” His voice cracked as he said it. “I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. God, I swear, I am so sorry.” 

Oliver looked like he was going to cry, as though he was completely blaming himself for Connor’s drug use, and Connor couldn’t stand having this conversation anymore. Instead, he surged towards Oliver, capturing his lips in a rough and needy kiss. Oliver didn’t pull away, but he brought his hands up to steady Connor, slowing the kiss down to something calmer. But Connor was insistent and soon he was getting more aggressive again, gripping at Oliver’s shirt and pushing him up against the back of the couch.

Oliver pulled back and ran his hand along Connor’s jaw. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he panted in response to Connor’s urgency. Connor barely seemed to register the words. He just kissed him again, even harder. 

This time, Oliver just let it happen and Connor’s hands moved to pull Oliver’s shirt off. Their lips separated for just a moment as the shirt came over Oliver’s head and then they were re-attached. 

Connor was frantically trying to feel as close to Oliver as possible, holding onto him for dear life. His hands gripped at Oliver’s bare chest and shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin, and his mouth moved to Oliver’s neck where he sucked and bit and relished in the feel of Oliver. Oliver gasped and arched underneath him, but his own movements remained gentle and soothing as he simply let Connor take whatever physical comfort he needed. 

In Connor’s opinion, this was their best form of communication. It didn’t involve Oliver asking probing questions that unknowingly poked at his memories of a living nightmare. It just allowed them to feel and express through touch. They could apologize and forgive each other without ever having to say anything. Connor could show Oliver how much he needed him, and Oliver could open himself up to Connor as if to say “I’m here.” 

“Bedroom” Oliver finally gasped, when he was so turned on that he couldn’t handle it anymore. Connor quickly stood up, pulling Oliver up with him without ever detaching his lips from Oliver’s skin. He moved them towards the bed while continuing to kiss and bite and clutch at Oliver’s body. When they reached the side of the bed, Connor’s hands made their way to the waistband of Oliver’s sweats. He tucked his fingers underneath both the sweats and the boxers and tugged. Oliver stepped out of them and then Connor immediately pushed Oliver towards the bed, maneuvering him so that he was on his hands and knees. He nipped at the skin on Oliver’s spine, trailing rough kisses down his back, and then Oliver’s hands gripped the blanket as Connor licked a firm line up the crack of his ass. He let out a choked gasp as Connor began to press the tip of his tongue around his rim.

Connor pulled away to pull off his own shirt and pants, and Oliver whimpered at the loss. But then Connor indulged him with a finger pressing up against him, testing the area. Oliver trembled underneath him. Everything Connor did was rough and abrupt and desperate and Oliver just allowed himself to submit to the sensations. 

Connor’s other hand reached for some lube and stroked his own dick to make it fully hard, before he grabbed Oliver's hips out and positioned himself against him. 

“Connor, do you think we should - ” Oliver started to say breathlessly, but then Connor pushed himself in and it was lost in a groan. 

“No,” Connor grunted, once he was finally fully immersed. He knew Oliver had been about to suggest a condom, but he felt too reckless and full of desire to care. Besides, he was on PrEP and he wanted to _feel_ Oliver. 

Oliver seemed to think the same thing, because he didn’t panic or pull away. Instead, his hips rolled a little against Connor. He lowered himself down to his forearms to steady himself, and Connor pulled back in and pushed forward again, eliciting another loud moan from Oliver. He pulled back again, and again, picking up speed until he was slamming into Oliver, skin slapping against skin, and both of them letting out a litany of whimpers and gasps. 

When Connor could feel himself getting close, he reached around and began to stroke Oliver. Oliver was moaning and breathing hard and his body tensed even further as he came. Connor thrust a few more times, and then pushed himself all the way up against Oliver and released inside of him. 

Slowly, he pulled out and they both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and gasping for breath. After Oliver had taken a moment to recover, he rolled over and tugged at Connor’s arm, trying to get him to move closer. Connor complied, rolling into Oliver’s side with his eyes still shut. He allowed Oliver to wrap his arms around him and place a soft kiss on his head. 

It felt like Oliver really wanted to say something then, but he didn’t. He just held Connor in silence, and Connor just let himself be soothed by the sound of Oliver’s heartbeat. He was beyond grateful for the closeness after feeling like they were so distant from each other all week, and in this moment it felt like everything was forgiven.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly guys, this fic goes on forever. I have chapters and chapters and chapters written already, waiting to be posted. It's just a continuous stream of angst and I have no idea where it's going or if I should cut it off at any point. But for now here's another chapter.

“We should go somewhere” Oliver mused, his finger drawing lazy circles on Connor’s back. 

Connor’s face was still buried in Oliver’s chest, but he frowned against Oliver’s skin. “I’m comfortable,” he muttered. 

Oliver chuckled. “I don’t mean right this second. But you have a couple weeks off before you start working full time for the summer. We should take a vacation. It would do us both some good.” 

Connor lifted his head and put his arm on Oliver, resting his chin on top and looking up at him. “Where would we go?” 

“I don’t know, there are so many options” Oliver said with a soft smile, as though he was already imagining them traveling the globe. 

“Florida?” Connor asked playfully.

Oliver frowned and cocked his head slightly. “What’s in Florida?” 

“There’s lots of things in Florida! There’s Disney World, and the beach, and lots of old crazy people.” 

Oliver laughed and Connor smiled at the sight, before placing a light kiss on Oliver’s chest. He had missed what it felt like to be happy around Oliver. It felt good to joke around in their post-sex haze. It was almost like all of the drama of the past week hadn’t happened. 

“You make it sound so appealing,” Oliver said sarcastically. “I was thinking more like Paris.”

Connor scoffed lightly. “Right. Have you forgotten that you’re unemployed and I live off of student loans?” 

“Yeah, but we can’t really afford a drug habit either, and Paris is more romantic” Oliver’s voice still sounded like it was joking, but Connor tensed and then slowly pulled away from Oliver to lie on his back. The mood shifted immediately. So much for pretending it hadn’t happened. 

“Con?” Oliver’s voice came out sounding surprised at the sudden distance between them, and he sat up a little on his elbows. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.” 

Connor shook his head. “It’s fine,” he muttered while staring at the ceiling. Then he rolled out of the bed. “We should get up. I’m going to go make coffee,” he sighed, pulling on a pair of boxers and sweats before turning to leave the bedroom. It was incredible how quickly the intimacy could disappear when being confronted with your mistakes. 

He was just turning on the coffee pot when Oliver came out of the bedroom, his movements hesitant. He leaned sideways against the kitchen counter, and Connor glanced over at him before turning to grab a coffee mug from the dishwasher. 

“Are we just never going to talk about it?” Oliver asked quietly. 

Connor paused his movements for a fraction of a second at the question, but then continued, closing the dishwasher and going to the fridge to get the milk out. 

“Connor.” Oliver sounded demanding and a little exasperated at the fact that he was being ignored. 

Connor put the milk down on the counter and turned around to look at Oliver. He felt trapped. He wanted to be anywhere else besides here, having this conversation. “We already talked about it,” he said curtly. 

“Well, are you okay? Can you at least tell me if I should be worried?” 

It was such a simple question, but so off-putting to Connor. Of course he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay for months. Not since he had chopped up and burned a dead body. But he obviously couldn’t tell Oliver that. 

Connor sighed, because he really didn't want to fight with Oliver again. “I was just really overwhelmed by finals,” he lied. “I was really stressed out, and then you and I were fighting and I overreacted. I had a moment of weakness where I made a really stupid choice. But I’m fine now. I’m not going to do it again.”

Oliver eyed him warily. “You promise you would tell me if there was anything else going on?” 

Connor could feel himself fidget slightly, but he hoped Oliver didn’t notice it. “Yeah. Of course.” 

Oliver nodded. If he had noticed Connor’s discomfort, he didn’t mention it. “Do you want me to make us some breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Connor said, slowly breathing out all the tension that he had been holding in. He turned around to pour his coffee and Oliver started pulling out ingredients to make them food. They weren't quite okay, but they were at least pretending to be.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days passed tentatively, but uneventful. The only rocky moment occurred when Connor had to go get his car from Asher’s house, and he had to admit to Oliver that he had been drinking after his last final and that Wes had given him a ride. But Oliver didn’t lecture him and simply thanked him for being honest. Other than that, neither of them brought up the drug problem. They were both clearly working to move on and get things back to normal, or at least, as normal as they had been prior to finals week. Secretly, Connor still knew that for him, normal was never obtainable again.

Since Connor had some time off before he had to start working for Annalise again over the summer, they mostly just lounged around a lot and made a couple of random outings in the city. Connor was trying hard to enjoy his time off and his time with Oliver, but all the downtime left him a lot of time to dwell on all the things he would rather not dwell on. It felt much worse than being in law school, because at least then he had classes and work that forced him to keep moving. Now he had nothing but free time to think about it all. On top of that, despite Oliver's mask of having moved on, he seemed to not-so-subtly be determined to never let Connor out of his sight for any extended period of time, always claiming he was bored and tagging along whenever Connor went anywhere.

Connor put on a happy face for Oliver, but whenever they sat down to watch a movie or walked in silence through a park, or when he was in bed after Oliver had already fallen asleep, Connor’s mind went to some very dark places. And he often found himself craving the escape that he knew existed in that little mint container in his backpack. 

Tonight, he wore his usual confident attitude as they went out to dinner with some of Oliver’s friends, but he felt particularly uncomfortable underneath his skin. Everything had really been building up for the last several days and he had hardly slept recently because he couldn’t get those same hellish images out of his mind. He felt on edge even as he laughed at Oliver’s friends’ jokes and impressed them all with random stories about legal cases he’d worked on. The drinks had just arrived and the night felt like it was going to go on forever. Connor had ordered water, of course, because he was around Oliver and that meant he was pretending to be clean and sober again. But once they all ordered their meals, Connor took the opportunity to excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Clearly, his collected demeanor was fooling Oliver, because he barely even glanced at him as he left, unconcerned. 

Connor stopped at the bar and downed a shot to take the edge off. Then he made a beeline for the bathroom. As soon as he locked the bathroom door, he let out a deep breath. Socializing and pretending was exhausting, and the isolation of the single stall bathroom was an incredible relief. He squeezed his eyes shut and took another deep breath, pounding his fist against the brick wall to try and release some of the nervous energy he had built up. Now that he was alone, everything he had been holding in all day around Oliver was threatening to pour out. He splashed some cold water on his face and then braced himself against the sink, dropping his head forward as he breathed in and out, taking comfort in the solitude. 

Once enough time had passed that he started to feel as though staying away any longer would raise concern, he braced himself and left the bathroom to return to the table. The last thing he wanted to do was go back out there and talk to any of those people, but he knew that he couldn’t exactly hide out in the bathroom the whole evening. But god, how he wanted to just go home and take a pill and forget about everything for a while. Even though he told himself he was still just thinking about it, in the back of his mind he had already resigned himself to taking advantage of his stash tonight. 

“No, I swear it’s true! Right, Connor?” Oliver asked with a smile as Connor pulled out his chair to sit back down. 

“Hm?” Connor asked, completely composed as though he hadn’t been on the verge of having a breakdown in the bathroom. 

“Christine doesn’t believe that I’m your first boyfriend.” 

Connor smirked. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

“No way. Someone as attractive and charming as you would have people falling to their knees to get with them. I simply don’t believe it.” Christine said from across the table. 

Connor laughed. “Well, yeah. Ollie was just the only one worth dating,” he said with a fond smile towards Oliver and Oliver blushed slightly at the words. 

“You two are gross,” Christine said sarcastically and Oliver and Connor grinned at each other. 

Connor’s smile fell as soon as Oliver looked away, but he continued to watch Oliver as the table’s conversation topic changed to some article someone had read in the news today. The pit in his stomach grew as he thought about just how much he needed Oliver, and how Oliver would never stay with him if he found out the truth. It felt indescribably lonely to be in a relationship with so many walls. 

Dinner seemed to move painfully slow, and Connor couldn’t care less about anything that anyone was talking about. He was an emotional wreck inside and felt like he was itching to get out of his own skin. When the check finally arrived, Connor couldn’t have been more relieved. At least, until he heard the group making plans to continue the night at a karaoke bar, and he almost wanted to cry at the idea of several more hours of forced socialization. Oliver was eagerly discussing it with the rest of the group, and Connor couldn’t do anything but stand there in silent horror at the idea, wracking his brain for inconspicuous ways to get out of it in a way that wouldn’t raise Oliver’s concern. 

They all filed out of the restaurant and he hung back a little from the group, dreading everything about what was happening. When Oliver looked back and saw that Connor was trailing behind, he slowed down until they were side by side. 

“Hey, slowpoke,” Oliver grinned, grabbing onto Connor’s arm. 

Connor smiled, but it was clearly forced. 

“Everything okay?” Oliver asked as he laced his fingers into Connor’s. Connor nodded, but didn’t say anything. Oliver squinted his eyes at him, and Connor knew he was trying to figure out what was wrong. “What’s going on?” he finally asked as he stopped their walking and turned to fully face Connor, allowing the rest of the group to get further ahead of them. 

“I just… I don’t know if I feel up to going to a bar and being around a lot of alcohol right now, so soon after everything that just happened,” Connor lied, although he silently noted the irony of pulling the recovering addict card as a front to go home and get high. But he figured the best way to fend off suspicion would be to admit struggling but play up the idea that he was trying to be responsible about it. It would make Oliver think he was being really open and honest. 

“Okay, we can just go home,” Oliver said immediately, and it was impressive how well he hid his disappointment even though Connor had seen how enthusiastic he had been when making the plans with everyone. 

“No, you should go,” Connor insisted. “Have fun with your friends.” 

Oliver was extremely hesitant at the idea and clearly didn’t want to let go of the tight leash he’d been holding Connor on lately, but Connor knew that he really wanted to go and that it wouldn’t take much more convincing before he would be finally be free. “Are you sure?” Oliver asked with concern. 

“Yeah, go! I still have you for another week and a half before I have to go back to work. You should spend some time with them.” 

“But - ” Oliver started and Connor interrupted him. 

“I’m fine, Ollie. I think I’ll just go for a run and then call it an early night. Don’t worry about me.” Connor was adamant now, and Oliver relented. 

“Okay, but just call if you want me to come home early,” he said seriously. 

Connor nodded. “Have fun, and if you sing anything embarrassing, make sure someone films it,” he joked. Oliver grinned and gave him a peck on the lips before running to catch up with the group. Connor watched him leave and cringed inside at how adept he had become at fooling Oliver. It was not a skill he was proud of.

He turned and hailed a taxi, quickly giving his address and heading home. He was so antsy now that he felt like he was going to explode. As soon as he was inside the apartment, he pulled out the container and picked out a couple pills. 

Then he showered and crawled into bed, eager to turn off his mind and get a good night’s sleep for the first time in days. 

When Connor woke up the next morning, there was a fully clothed, passed out Oliver in the bed next to him. He smiled in amusement as he rolled out of bed. Everything felt a little easier today. He had slept through the night for the first time in weeks and couldn’t remember a single dream. But he knew he was running low on pills now, since he had mainly bought Adderall last time, and the idea of running out made him anxious. He needed this feeling of being okay to last. Since Oliver was still sleeping, he saw the brief window of opportunity. He quietly got dressed, grabbed his keys, and left to find his dealer. 

When he got back, Oliver was awake and sitting on the couch, looking extremely hung over. “Where were you so early in the morning?” Oliver asked curiously, with maybe a hint of a suspicious undertone. 

But Connor had anticipated this, and he just held up a paper bag that had two breakfast burritos from a local diner inside. “Figured you would need some hangover food,” he said.

“You’re such a great boyfriend!” Oliver said with a surprised but grateful smile. 

Connor smiled back, but guilt panged at his insides. He handed Oliver a breakfast burrito and they ate quietly before getting on with the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is so angsty and I'm so sorry.

From an outside perspective, things seemed to get a lot smoother in the following days. Oliver seemed to start to trust Connor again and was no longer watching him like a hawk. Ironically, however, his trust seemed to be growing even as Connor was popping pills right under his nose. Connor had found a nice cocktail of pills that allowed him to sleep every night and made him feel relaxed during the day, but didn’t make him so loopy that Oliver would notice. 

Now that he was able to maintain his subtle high, he actually was enjoying his time off immensely. He didn’t have to be around the people he committed murder with. He didn’t have to hear about it. He didn’t have to be in that house again. And he didn’t have the nightmares or the flashbacks or the constant guilt and fear flowing through his mind, because all he felt was numb and a little spacey. As soon as that numbness started to wear off, he would just down another pill. 

Which was what he had gone to do right now, while Oliver was in the bathroom, when he realized his mint container was empty again. Cursing to himself, he pocketed it and grabbed his keys. He was almost out the door when Oliver came back out of the restroom. 

“Hey, where are you headed?” Oliver asked. 

“Michaela just called, she’s stranded and her car needs a jump start,” Connor lied easily. He panicked inwardly, because he had had to make up the story on the spot and had no way out of it if Oliver asked to tag along, but Oliver just nodded.

“Bring back dinner on your way back?” 

“Yeah, sure. Chinese?” Connor asked, trying hard to hide his eagerness to leave. 

“Hm.. no, I’m not feeling Chinese. I’ve been really craving those plantains from that Spanish place lately, though.” Oliver mused. 

“Sounds good to me,” Connor said, turning towards the door but trying not to move so fast that it was suspicious. 

Oliver let him leave and he hastily got into his car to drive to his dealer’s house, texting him along the way. But when he got to the door, he was met with some pretty unfortunate news. 

“What do you mean you’re out?” Connor gritted through his teeth. 

“Sorry. The doctor that writes us all the prescriptions is out of town.” 

Connor fidgeted on the porch. This was not ideal. The last thing he wanted was to go back to the nightmares and the random flashbacks and the maddening anxiety. He needed these pills to keep him sane. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked the dealer, annoyed.

The dealer eyed him for a moment and then smirked. “I might be willing to let you have some of my very own personal stash,” he said flirtatiously, leaning forward. “If you can make it worth my while.” 

Connor hesitated. Oliver, a man who he was in love with, was sitting at home waiting for him to bring home plantains from their favorite Spanish restaurant right now. Because they had things like that, favorite restaurants and an established life together. And he needed Oliver in his life. Oliver was the only thing that kept him going most days. But he also needed these pills in his life. They kept him sane enough to hold onto Oliver in the first place. He would do anything to avoid going back to having to feel everything again. And Oliver would never have to know this happened. 

So, swallowing down the guilt that was already building in his throat and putting on his best smirk, he looked into the dealer’s eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come inside and we’ll… negotiate.” The dealer said the last word with a very suggestive tone, and opened the door wider for Connor to enter. 

Connor left the house 20 minutes later, feeling completely sick to his stomach and hating himself for what he had just done, but taking comfort in the small container that now rattled with pills and telling himself it was necessary to keep Oliver around. 

He swallowed one before starting his car, and then quickly drove to grab the food and go home. Sitting outside the apartment building in his parked car, he rested his head on the steering wheel. He dreaded going inside. Dreaded seeing Oliver’s face while knowing how devastated he would be if he ever knew what had just happened. Now that he had time to really let it all sink in, the guilt and regret overwhelmingly washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and take it back.

Fighting back his tears, he reached for another pill. He clearly wasn’t numb enough because this hurt. A lot. Then he reluctantly got out of the car and carried the food up to the apartment.

Oliver was watching TV and sat up when Connor came back in. “Took you long enough.” 

Connor didn’t respond, just put the food down on the kitchen counter and went to grab some plates, internally begging the pills to kick in so that he could ignore the massive hole in his chest.

“How is Michaela?” Oliver asked as he got up to help Connor get the food out of the containers. 

“Hm?” Connor asked, before he remembered that that was what he had supposedly been doing while he was out. “Oh, fine.” 

“Did her car work alright?” 

“Yeah, it was just a drained battery. She must’ve left a light on or something,” Connor said dismissively before trying to change the subject. “Do you want to eat at the table or the couch?” 

“The table is fine. Where was her car?” Oliver’s question sounded much more accusatory than the previous ones, and Connor tensed. He didn’t know how, but he knew he was caught in a lie. 

“What?” he asked, stalling by pretending he hadn’t heard because he had no idea what to do.

“Where was her car?” This time, Oliver definitely sounded angry and Connor turned around from where he was grabbing drinking glasses from the cupboard to look at him. 

Connor opened his mouth to respond, although he didn’t even know what he was going to say, but Oliver cut him off. “Michaela posted a photo on Facebook while you were gone. She’s on vacation in Hawaii. I’m assuming you didn’t drive all the way to Hawaii.” 

Connor’s stomach dropped. He looked at Oliver, watching for his mood and trying to gauge how he should respond. 

“Okay, I know this looks bad,” he started, but he didn’t even know what lie he could tell to fix it so he just trailed off. His high was just starting to kick back in now, at the most inconvenient time, and the second pill made it stronger than usual so his thoughts weren’t completely forming the way they should. 

“Give them to me.” Oliver demanded, ignoring whatever Connor might have been trying to say. 

“Huh?” Connor asked, genuinely confused this time since his mind had solely been thinking about the fact that he had cheated on Oliver.

“Whatever drugs you went to buy. Give them to me!” 

Connor’s eyes widened slightly at the request, as he kept thinking about what he had to do for the pills that were now in his pocket and how terrible he had felt afterwards. He felt like he had sold his soul for them. And now, Oliver was just going to throw them away. 

“No,” he said quietly. 

“Connor!” Oliver exclaimed in disbelief. “Give me the damn drugs.” 

“No.” Connor repeated, firmer this time. 

They stared at each other, then, in a silent standoff. The seconds stretched on to feel like hours and Connor could feel his heart racing as he looked at Oliver, but he didn’t back down. 

“Then get out.” Oliver finally said, and his voice was cold, but thanks to the pills, Connor was numb. He knew that he was supposed to beg Oliver not to do this, to give him another chance. But the only emotion that registered in his brain was a desire to go and get even higher. To drown out all the guilt and the pain and the self-hatred that was bubbling up underneath the wall that the drugs created. 

So he just nodded, grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter, and walked out the door. Oliver’s stance faltered a little as Connor walked past, but he made no move to stop him.


	9. Chapter 9

It only took until the next day before Oliver came running after Connor again. Connor woke up to a pounding on the door of Asher’s spare bedroom.

“Dude, the O-man’s here to see you!” Asher yelled through the door, before barging in. 

Connor sat up from the bed in a daze as he looked up at the door. Standing behind Asher in the hallway was a very timid looking Oliver. It was probably late in the afternoon, but Connor was in the process of coming down from the fact that he had chosen to go for the ecstasy last night, rather than the prescription pills, and his head throbbed at the sudden loud intrusion that was Asher. 

“Hey,” Oliver said softly, but Connor just stared back silently.

“Right, I’m just going to go back to my video games then.” Asher said awkwardly as he backed out of the room. 

Oliver looked like he was waiting for Connor to say something, but when Connor didn’t, he hesitantly entered the room and moved to sit down on the bed. 

Connor’s gaze shifted away so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at Oliver. Seeing Oliver’s face was too much for him. It made him feel guilty for cheating and ashamed for being a disappointment in general, but it also made him feel inexplicably angry and betrayed. And of course, once again all of these feelings were much more intense than usual because of the drug comedown. 

“You look terrible,” Oliver muttered. “What did you take last night?”

Connor was shaking violently and he knew he looked like a strung out mess, and his mind felt as fragile as his body probably looked. He didn’t respond. He just tugged at his hair slightly and then fidgeted with his blanket, his movements slightly erratic.

“Connor, I don’t know what to do,” Oliver admitted. “I want you to come home. I need you to come home. But not like this. I can’t just sit back and keep watching you do this to yourself. ” 

Connor still didn’t respond. He knew exactly what Oliver meant when he said he didn’t know what to do, because every potential outcome Connor saw involved the end of him and Oliver. Even before the cheating, there were too many lies and secrets and walls between them to ever allow them to have a true and happy relationship. Maybe in a different life they could work, but in this life where Connor had blood on his hands, it wasn’t possible. Their end was simply inevitable, and Connor suddenly knew that’s why he had been harboring such anger and resentment towards Oliver. Because he had put his trust in the idea of Oliver as a happy ever after, and Oliver couldn’t actually be that for him. Now, all that anger crumbled as some tears threatened to fall and he bent his knees up towards his chest. 

Oliver reached out to grab Connor’s hand, and Connor barely even acknowledged it, too focused on trying to hold up the dam in his mind that held back the emotions that were threatening to spill out. Oliver stroked his thumb. “We can get you help. I’ll take you to a rehab.” Oliver coaxed. 

Connor didn’t process the words right away but when he did, he added annoyed to the list of things he was feeling. Oliver was over here acting hopeful and thinking their biggest problem was a drug problem, when Connor knew that the issue was not nearly that easy to fix. “No,” Connor choked out, finally pulling his hand away. “Stop trying to fix me. Stop being so nice to me. I don’t deserve any of it. Just stop.” 

“I’m not going to stop. I can’t just give up on you. I love you.” 

Connor cringed at the words and shook his head. “I’m a terrible person,” he stated. 

“You’re not,” Oliver said softly, reaching out for Connor again but Connor flinched away from the touch. 

“I cheated on you,” Connor admitted suddenly, because Oliver was being too nice and too forgiving and Connor just needed it to end. The words rang out harsh and cold and sat in the air. “When I came home yesterday, I had just slept with a drug dealer for pills.” 

Oliver just fell into a stunned silence, and the hurt was evident on his face. 

“And that’s not even close to the worst thing I’ve done. All this time, I’ve been lying to you and manipulating you, and selfishly using you. If you knew…” Connor trailed off, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

Connor was looking directly at Oliver, and he could see Oliver’s heart breaking right in front of him. It mirrored the way his own heart felt. 

“What else?” Oliver asked, and his eyes were watering but his voice was eerily calm. 

“What do you mean ‘what else’?” Connor asked angrily, not comprehending the question or why Oliver was even still here, dragging out this pain. 

“You said that’s not the worst thing you’ve done. So what else?” 

Connor’s body tensed and his lips tightened and he just shook his head.

“Tell me.” Oliver demanded, and his voice was borderline scary even though it was not raised in the slightest. 

Connor was overwhelmed by Oliver’s demanding eyes. “No. I – I can’t.” he stammered. And then, just like that and without warning, the dam broke and he crumbled. His mental state was so fragile from the rollercoaster of drugs and suddenly everything he had been holding in and suppressing since that first murderous night tore through him. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he cried out again and again as he sobbed, until he wasn’t sure if he meant he couldn’t tell Oliver, or that he couldn’t handle what his life had become. One hand came up to pull roughly at his own hair while the other hand dug its nails deep into the forearm of the first arm. 

Oliver’s eyes widened at the sight. He clearly wasn’t expecting such a sudden and complete breakdown, but he reacted quickly, reaching out and pulling at Connor’s arms. 

“Connor! Connor, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” He finally succeeded in the fight to pull his hands down and he held them against Connor’s sides. 

Connor couldn’t bear to look at Oliver and his neck strained as he turned his face away, trembling and sobbing and hysterical, still struggling against Oliver’s grip. Oliver just held him firmly to prevent him from continuing to curl up and scratch his own skin or pull his own hair. “You have to calm down,” Oliver said firmly. 

Connor heard the words, but he didn’t really process them. He was gasping for breath and trying to get out of Oliver’s grasp and he felt like he was drowning in all of his emotions. The murders and the violence kept flashing through his memory and it had ruined him, and ruined his relationship with Oliver before it had even really begun, and he couldn’t live without Oliver. He didn’t want to keep going anymore. 

“Let… go…” he gasped as he struggled against Oliver’s grip, but Oliver maneuvered himself until he was sitting behind Connor, arms wrapped around his chest and stomach, pinning Connor’s arms down to his sides and holding him tight against his chest. Connor continued to squirm for a few more minutes before he finally slumped over in defeat, even though his body continued to heave with sobs. 

When the sobs did finally subside, a wave of exhaustion rolled over him so profound that he could barely even sit up or keep his eyes open. Only then, did Oliver slowly release him and maneuver him until he was lying down on his side, and then there was a hand in his hair and everything was going black and the world was disappearing into nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super short, but super sad. 
> 
> The fic is already drafted until the end and as of now there are 3 more chapters, but I might add in an additional chapter after this one that is Oliver's point of view. It's to be determined.

When Connor woke up again, his mind felt heavy and he had no concept of what time it was. He didn’t find the willpower to move for several minutes, and he just stared blankly at the wall. Finally, he stirred and slowly rolled over. As he did, he heard movement from the opposite side of the room. Oliver was straightening up in a chair and looking over at Connor. 

Connor pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Sorry,” he muttered. He didn’t really know whether he was apologizing for having a nervous breakdown or for something else, but he had fucked up enough that there were plenty of options. 

Oliver stood up and walked over to the bed while looking Connor up and down and seemingly trying to get a feel for his mental state.

“Why are you still here?” Connor asked, mostly to try and deflect the prying gaze. Connor wasn't surprised to see him, but he was pretty sure Oliver was only still here because Connor’s strung out, drug withdrawal induced breakdown had been so intense that his basic human decency forced him to stay. 

Oliver frowned at the question, as though he hadn’t actually figured out why he was there either. “You scared me,” he admitted after a moment, confirming Connor's suspicion. “I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

Connor nodded, unsure of what to say to that, and his gaze fell to his lap. 

“Look,” Oliver sighed, and his words were hesitant, but sounded as though he’d thought about them a lot. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but it’s obviously something really bad. I thought we knew each other, but I’m starting to get the feeling that I don’t know you at all.” His voice cracked on the words, and Connor looked back up at him again.

“Oliver,” he said apologetically, but Oliver just shook his head to stop him. 

“No, just let me say this.” He took a shaky breath and continued. “We can’t be together, Connor. You obviously can’t be honest and open with me and faithful to me, and that's not a relationship.” Connor opened his mouth to talk again, but Oliver held his hand up, “But –” he said to stop Connor from speaking. “I need you to know that I don’t hate you. And I don’t think you’re a terrible person, even if you think you are. I know that you’re not, because whatever this is, it’s clearly ruining you. So whatever you did, no matter how bad it was, I forgive you for it. I do. And I will still be around to listen if you ever need a friend and want to talk about it. I hope you figure it all out. I wish the best for you, I just can’t do this anymore.” 

A tear rolled down Connor’s cheek as he stared at Oliver. Oliver was saying goodbye, and Connor would be left with nothing. Nothing but his god awful internship and his god awful law school and his own living nightmare. 

“Please don’t leave,” Connor choked out pathetically, even though he already knew this was what had to happen, and he saw Oliver’s heartbreak on his face as Oliver backed away from the bed. 

“Take care of yourself, Connor,” he whispered, his voice strangled like he was barely holding in his own tears. 

And just like that, he was walking out the door. Connor kept looking at the door long after Oliver had left, and then just curled up on his side, unwilling to get out of bed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I decided to do it. This chapter switches POV to show Oliver's perspective on things. But after this, it will switch back to Connor for the rest of the story.

Oliver left Asher’s house and barely made it back to his car before he started crying. He sat in the driver’s seat and just let himself cry until he couldn’t cry anymore. A big part of him wanted to take it back. To go right back into Asher’s house and tell Connor that he didn’t mean it. But he knew that he couldn’t do that, not again. All he ever did lately was let it go when Connor lied and say it was okay that Connor was keeping secrets and let it slide when Connor was doing drugs. He was the definition of an enabler and it wasn’t good for Connor and it sure as hell wasn’t healthy for Oliver. 

No, he had to draw the line somewhere, and cheating seemed like a pretty obvious place to do it. This was the bright, flashing, neon, heart-wrenching sign that could no longer be ignored. Oliver always knew that he was a little more soft-spoken than a lot of other people and he tended to be too nice for his own good, but despite his close friends telling him to be more assertive and stand up for himself, he never saw how niceness could be a bad quality to have. Until now. Now he realized he was a pushover. He had let himself repeatedly be lied to and manipulated and he felt ashamed of himself for letting it get so far. 

But despite the heartbreak and anguish and the feeling of immense betrayal, he also meant it when he told Connor he forgave him. Because he could see that something had broken Connor. Whatever it was, it was tragic and life-altering. Lately it had come to a head, but Oliver had seen it start months ago, after the first of many of Connor’s drug-induced breakdowns. Connor was a different person after he showed up on Oliver’s doorstep that night. More subdued, more quiet, less confident. When they started dating again, Oliver quickly noticed the changes in Connor’s sleep habits. He watched Connor lose weight. He watched him become anxious and easily agitated. He could see that he was thoroughly broken, even as Connor tried to hide it and downplay it and pretend everything was fine. 

And maybe that was why it took Oliver so long to walk away. Because it’s hard enough to end a relationship with someone you truly love, but damn near impossible to turn your back on someone when you know they’re so desperately struggling already. Oliver truly feared the outcome of this decision. He honestly wondered if he would see Connor ever again, or if the next time would be at his funeral after a drug overdose. Maybe not tomorrow, but somewhere down the line it was bound to happen unless Connor could turn his life around. Which was why, even now, Oliver wanted to go back and wrap Connor in his arms and hope that he could convince Connor to change for him. Oliver wanted to save Connor from himself, and he just felt like if Connor could get clean, then maybe everything that happened in the past could be buried and they could be happy.

But he couldn’t fix Connor. He had already tried and failed. So when he finally composed himself, he turned on his car and drove home. 

His resolve lasted for all of 4 days, and then Michaela came knocking at his door asking for Connor. Oliver was confused at first as to why she would think Connor still lived here and why Connor apparently didn’t tell her about the breakup, but then Michaela explained that Connor never showed up to start work again and that nobody could get in touch with him. 

Oliver’s heart sank at that news, and after he told Michaela that he had no idea where Connor was and sent her away, he immediately tried to call Connor himself. He had a slight hope that maybe, just maybe, Connor would answer if he saw that it was Oliver calling. But the call went straight to voicemail. He tried again, sometimes multiple times a day and each time with a massive pit in his stomach, for several days and the calls never went through. 

So Oliver started to wonder if (and then convince himself that) Connor was dead. He ran into Connor’s things everywhere in the apartment. Connor’s clothes were still in the dresser and closet. His toothbrush was still in the bathroom. His favorite mug was still in the kitchen cupboard. His school bag was still on a kitchen chair. Oliver knew he should pack it all up to stop torturing himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to move any of it.

He started to blame himself for giving up on Connor when Connor needed someone the most. He started to berate himself with how he should have listened when Connor begged him not to leave, should have tried harder to convince him to go to rehab or should have told him to come back home, just should have fucking stayed. 

Oliver was angry with himself. After all, Connor had been in such a dark place when Oliver left. Oliver had never seen a breakdown as bad as the one he saw that day, the way Connor was drowning and flailing for help. This wasn’t one of those situations where people would say “you never could have known,” because Oliver absolutely knew and he left anyway. 

So Oliver cried a lot and didn’t eat or sleep much at all. He was a wreck as he mourned his maybe dead ex-boyfriend. He begged to the universe or god or whatever may or may not be out there for Connor to be okay, and he promised whoever or whatever he was begging to that if Connor ever came back alive, Oliver would never let go of him again. 

He spent a great deal of time like that, a nervous and devastated wreck. He checked his phone hourly to see if anyone would contact him with news about Connor, and every day he heard nothing. Until, two whole weeks after walking away from Connor, Oliver's phone buzzed with a single text message.


	12. Chapter 12

The day after Oliver left him, Connor dumped all of his drugs in the toilet and then promptly drove himself to a drug rehab and checked himself in. He didn’t really know why he was doing it. Partially to avoid having to start work again, partially because he no longer had a place to live and it would give him somewhere to stay for a short while, and mostly because he just couldn’t handle the real world right now.

Despite all of the turmoil drugs had caused, he had never really considered the fact that he might actually be a drug addict. He still didn’t think that even as he checked himself into the facility, although subconsciously he probably knew. Consciously, he had always told himself that it wasn’t the drugs, but rather the murder, causing all the problems in his life. It wasn’t until the drug counselors called him out on all the bullshit justifications he made (although in the story he told them, he replaced the murders with other random made-up tragedies) that he started to accept addiction as his reality.

He didn’t even bother to tell anyone where he was going, and when he was released a couple of weeks later, he showed up at Michaela’s door without warning.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Michaela exclaimed when she opened the door. “Oliver just said you guys broke up and that he had no idea where you were. You didn’t show up to work and your phone just went straight to voicemail and -”

“I was in drug rehab,” Connor interrupted her and she fell into a stunned silence. She looked him up and down for a moment and then gestured for him to come in.

Luckily, Michaela was tactful about the situation and didn’t ask for any further explanation. She just made up her couch for Connor, let him use her shower and her phone charger, made him some dinner, and filled him in on the case they had started at work. Connor listened and nodded, even though going back to work was something he dreaded and instantly made him want to go back to getting high. But it was interesting feeling to actually be a recovering drug addict for real this time, and to be actively trying to overcome the desire rather than simply giving in.

He didn’t have a lot of things, other than the clothes on his back and a couple of extra outfits he had bought before checking himself in. So the next morning, he braced himself and reluctantly texted Oliver to ask if he could grab his stuff from the apartment.

“Come by any time today,” Oliver had responded almost immediately.

Connor put it off for a while. Facing Oliver again was the last thing he wanted to do, but he didn’t have a lot to distract himself with in Michaela’s apartment so in the late afternoon he reluctantly got in his car, bought some cardboard boxes, and headed over.

Knocking on the door to what used to be his home felt weird. Seeing Oliver being warm and friendly when he opened the door felt weirder.

“Hey,” Connor muttered awkwardly as Oliver gestured him inside and then hugged him rather tightly. Connor half-heartedly hugged back, uncomfortable and completely caught off guard by Oliver’s complete lack of hostility and extremely over enthusiastic greeting.

Oliver finally pulled back and gave him a warm smile, but Connor could’ve sworn it looked like Oliver was about to cry. Connor’s chest ached at that sight, knowing that Oliver was trying to mask the hurt. He almost wished Oliver would just scream at him like he deserved.

“Your friends said they hadn’t seen you. I was worried,” Oliver said as he finally took a lingering hand off of Connor’s arm.

Connor pulled at the back of his neck awkwardly as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Yeah, I uh…I was in an inpatient rehab for a couple weeks.”

“That’s really good to hear. I’m glad.” Oliver’s voice had genuine kindness to it, and the fact that Oliver could still be happy for him, despite how absolutely awful he had treated him, made Connor feel even more uncomfortable and guilty. Someone as good and pure and kind as Oliver never deserved to have someone like Connor enter his life.

Connor nodded and shifted on his feet. He didn’t like this at all. Oliver was trying too hard and being too nice and it all felt wrong.

“So are you going back to work now that you’re out?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Connor shrugged, not wanting to think about it. “Look, I just need to grab my stuff and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.” He was just trying to move past the awkward small talk and get the whole thing over with, because he was sure that despite Oliver’s friendly face it was just as uncomfortable for him, but to his surprise, Oliver’s eyes seemed to flash with hurt at the statement and his whole demeanor stiffened.

“Right. Um… I haven’t touched anything. I meant to start packing it up for you, I just didn’t get around to it,” Oliver stammered.

“I brought boxes,” Connor said dumbly, gesturing to the cardboard in the hallway.

Oliver nodded, and after another moment of silence where neither of them knew what to say, Connor awkwardly grabbed his boxes and headed for the bedroom.

He packed as quickly as possible, throwing things haphazardly into the boxes and trying not to think about it too much or make it feel too real. He’d spent most of his time in rehab dealing with the heartbreak, but having to come back and actually face it was a whole different story.

Once the last box was filled, he carried it to the small pile he had created by the front door. Oliver was watching from the couch and stood up when Connor put the last box down, taking a couple steps towards Connor.

“I think that’s it,” Connor muttered, just for the sake of saying something. “Just… let me know if you come across anything I forgot, okay?” He turned to open the door, in a rush to get out of there because it felt like he was being suffocated in that apartment.

“Connor, wait,” Oliver said suddenly, walking towards him, and Connor was tense as he turned back around, because he had been desperately hoping to avoid any sort of emotional goodbye.

But to his surprise, instead of a goodbye, there were suddenly hands grabbing his sides, and lips on his.

He stumbled slightly and grabbed onto Oliver for balance, but pulled away from the kiss as soon as he processed what was happening, turning his head slightly. “Ollie, please don’t do this,” he whispered, because despite how his body ached for Oliver, his mind still knew that this couldn’t work for all the same reasons it couldn’t work before, and his heart was threatening to break all over again.

But Oliver gripped him tighter. “Please don’t leave,” he said, echoing the same words Connor had begged weeks ago in Asher’s guest room, and looking at Connor with such intensity that Connor’s small amount of resolve quickly broke.

Connor shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to convince either himself or Oliver that this was a bad idea, but a beat later he surged forward anyway, closing the gap between their lips again. Then it was small moans and insistent hands as Oliver shoved Connor up against the door, and Connor fumbled with Oliver’s belt. He was drowning and Oliver was his oxygen source and he couldn’t get enough. Shirts and belts came off quickly, and then they were stumbling towards the bed, still attached by the lips and grasping at each other frantically.

Suddenly, Connor was on his back and his pants were being pulled off, and then he was being kissed again while being stroked by Oliver. It was moving so fast that he barely had time to process anything. He moaned into Oliver’s mouth and rocked his hips into the sensation, completely lost in the moment and the familiarity of it all. Oliver was gone for a split second as he grabbed the lube, and then he was kissing Connor again and teasing Connor’s entrance with slick fingers, as Connor pushed up into his touch. Then he had his fingers deep in Connor, curling up in just the right place, and Connor’s breath was coming out in short gasps and whimpers against Oliver’s lips. And before he even knew what was happening, Oliver was pressed up against him and looking into his eyes with an inquisitive gaze. Connor nodded slightly.

“Ah, fuck” Connor gasped as Oliver slowly pushed himself in, and their eyes remained locked, because it was all hungry and desperate and fast-paced but it was still incredibly intimate to need someone so intensely.

Oliver continued to look directly into Connor’s eyes as he pulled back and thrust back in, making Connor dig his nails into Oliver’s shoulders and moan, loud and unhindered. Connor wrapped his legs around Oliver's back and pulled at the nape of Oliver’s neck, begging for another kiss, and Oliver obliged him with clumsy lips while he pulled back and pushed in again. He gradually picked up speed. Then he reached in between them to stroke Connor and soon they were both moaning and rocking together and lost in each other.

Connor could feel himself getting close and he grasped at Oliver’s back desperately, his moans growing even louder. Oliver could sense it, and he thrust with just a little more purpose and stroked him faster, urging Connor on. Connor saw Oliver's intense gaze right before he closed his eyes and came all over his own stomach and Oliver’s hand. Oliver then leaned in and kissed him again as he felt Oliver shudder and pulse inside of him.

They came down from their orgasms with breathy kisses. Then Oliver pulled out and pulled off a condom that Connor hadn’t even noticed him put on, but it was good that he had because Connor had stopped taking PrEP, since he had left his prescription behind the day Oliver kicked him out.

And with that thought, just as quickly as he had allowed himself to forget and to get lost in Oliver’s insistent desire, Connor was brought back down to earth. He closed his eyes to try and calm the sudden wave of disappointment in himself. Oliver was crawling back into the bed with a towel to wipe Connor’s stomach, and Connor tensed at the touch.

“Hey,” Oliver said softly, running a thumb along his cheek until he opened his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

Connor hesitated, thrown off a little because he hadn’t expected Oliver’s face to be so close to his. Oliver was cupping his jaw and looking at him fondly, and it was utterly and completely unnerving. He couldn't figure out what was going through Oliver's mind or why Oliver was being so open and affectionate. It was almost as though he had simply forgotten about everything that had just happened between them.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he replied honestly.

Oliver pulled back only a little bit, dropping his hand to Connor’s neck and his face still close enough that Connor could feel his breath. He looked deep into Connor’s eyes, as if he were trying to read something in them.

“Why not?” he finally asked.

Connor propped himself up slightly on his elbows, the movement pushing Oliver back, because he couldn’t really think when Oliver was just staring down at him like that. Oliver propped himself up on his side and continued to look at Connor expectantly.

“Because we know how this ends,” Connor muttered.

“No. We don’t,” Oliver argued softly as he reached out again and put a gentle hand on Connor’s chest, tracing circles into his skin lightly with his fingers. “I think we can make this work. It just needs more time and patience.”

Connor sighed and shook his head, refusing to allow himself to relax under Oliver’s touch. “I cheated on you, Oliver!" he said, exasperated and confused as to why Oliver wasn't comprehending this situation. "I lied to you. I screwed you over. Why are you doing this?"

Oliver just shook his head and his gentle touch remained. "You're clean now. The things the drugs made you do aren't you."

Connor sighed. "How many times are we going to do this?” He paused for a second before continuing, looking down at Oliver’s hand and then back at Oliver. “What if I relapse? What if I can't be the person you think I am even when I'm clean? I can’t keep doing it, Ollie. I can’t keep having you let me back in just to kick me out again and again every time I mess up. I can’t keep tiptoeing around you and knowing you’ll leave me again if you ever knew just how much I’ve fucked up. We just keep going in circles.” He turned his face away to try and blink away the tears that were threatening to well in his eyes. “I know I deserve it, but it hurts too much.”

Finally, the hand that was on Connor’s chest stilled, and then was slowly pulled back as Oliver took in Connor’s words and swallowed. “I guess we both keep disappointing each other,” he mumbled. “No wonder you don’t trust me.”

“Oliver, don’t…” Connor said softly, because he hadn’t been trying to make him feel guilty.

“No, you’re right,” Oliver said. “I keep telling you to be open with me, but then I push you away. Why would I expect you to tell me anything?”

“It’s not your fault,” Connor replied. “I’m the liar, and the cheater, and the junkie.” _And the murderer,_ he thought, but refrained from saying. “Anyone would leave in that situation. You are more than right to hate me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Oliver muttered, rolling over to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. “That’s the problem. I still love you, despite all of it. It doesn’t matter how much I know I should hate you, and how unhealthy I know this is, I try but can never let you go. I think you could do just about anything and my stubborn heart wouldn’t care.”

Connor refused to acknowledge the small flutter of hope in his chest at those words, because he knew that they wouldn’t apply to murder. They couldn’t.

"You shouldn't," Connor muttered, also staring up at the ceiling. "You shouldn't love me."

“I thought you were dead,” Oliver admitted. "These past two weeks. I thought you were dead and I thought I would never…” he trailed off, choking back tears.

Connor fell silent, but reached out to grab Oliver’s hand, unsure of what to say. He hated how much he had clearly made Oliver suffer in their relationship.

“Connor?” Oliver asked suddenly, turning to look at him again.

“Yeah, Ollie?”

“Is there anything I can say or do to convince you to trust me with whatever it is you won’t tell me? To show you that I won’t leave again?”

Connor bit his lip and looked away again, lost in thought. Murder was way beyond what he could expect Oliver to forgive. He knew that despite his words, Oliver was not signing up for that kind of a confession.

Connor slowly sat up. He reached for his boxers that had been thrown off to the side of the bed and pulled them on.

“What… are you leaving?” Oliver asked in shock as he sat up too.

Connor shook his head as he stood up to grab his pants off the floor. “No,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’ll tell you.” His voice was shaky but determined. “Just not… not like this.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped a little but he quickly composed himself and nodded, following Connor’s lead and getting dressed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end of this story and it makes me kinda sad. One more chapter after this one!

Connor walked out to the living room to grab his shirt and put it back on quickly. He wasn’t fooling himself into thinking they could make this work. This wasn’t a hopeful decision, it was a resigned one. Because he was just so fucking tired of it all and he needed to stop that little voice that insisted on pretending there was a chance. He needed to simply pull the band-aid off. 

Oliver would probably never speak to him again. He might even call the police. But Connor just didn’t have it in him to care anymore, he needed this to end. Which was why he couldn’t do it while lying naked in bed with Oliver, where everything was so exposed and intimate. He didn’t want to ruin that last good memory, and he wanted to be able to say it and get out immediately. 

Once they were both dressed, they sat down on the couch. Oliver brought over some coffee, but Connor didn’t even bother to pick up the mug. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and staring at the floor. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. 

“Connor?” Oliver asked tentatively once the silence had stretched on for too long. 

Connor took a shaky breath and looked up at Oliver. “I guess I really do have a drug problem, but that night, when I showed up here freaking out,” he started, “I wasn’t on drugs.” 

Oliver frowned a little, but didn’t do anything else. Connor couldn’t read his reaction, and knew he hadn’t even scraped the surface of the confession, so he just kept going. He didn’t really know how to approach the conversation, because there was no way to sugar coat a murder confession, so he swallowed down the lump in his throat and wiped some of the tears that were already starting to fall and cut straight to the chase. 

“I was freaking out because Wes killed Sam Keating and I was there when it happened and I had to help get rid of the body. Then I couldn’t handle it, and I couldn’t be alone, so I came here. Which I never should have done, but I did, and you got dragged into my nightmare of a life where my boss makes us commit crimes and frame other people for murders that my coworkers commit. So there it is. I sleep with people that jump out of windows because of it and I cover up murders and I almost shot Annalise before Michaela stopped me, and I get high so I don’t have to think about it all.” 

Connor was holding back a sob as he finished, and he turned to look at Oliver again. Oliver’s eyes were wide and his mouth was open in what Connor could only assume was complete horror. Connor didn’t want to wait for the inevitable blow-up, so he quickly stood up and made a break for the door. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Oliver’s voice cried out in a loud and hysterical voice as Connor was halfway to the door. “You think you can just say something like that and walk out? That I’m just supposed to sit here and let you leave and do nothing about it?” 

Connor turned back around. Oliver was standing up now, walking towards him very, very quickly. Connor broke a little more under Oliver’s intensity and wrapped his arms around himself tightly. He couldn’t form a coherent response to the question, so he just choked out a broken “I’m sorry” as he looked down at the ground and continued to back away from Oliver. He needed to get out of here. Needed to go buy more drugs, maybe. He just needed to escape and not be here to get screamed at by Oliver. And judging by Oliver’s words, he fully intended to hold Connor here and call the police. Connor turned around again to run the last few feet to the door, but Oliver was faster and caught his arm in a tight grip. 

Connor immediately flinched and brought the other arm up over his head, expecting to be hit or thrown or something, as images of Sam falling from a banister and Rebecca being tied up and Sinclair’s body being dropped and blood pouring from Annalise’s stomach unexpectedly flashed through his mind, but the hand just remained on his arm, holding him in place. He slowly lowered his arm and looked back with wide eyes. Oliver’s expression had changed to one of pure shock as he loosened his grip on Connor’s arm. 

“I wasn’t going to hurt you, Connor” he said softly, sounding confused by Connor’s sudden reaction. 

But Connor’s body remained tense and adrenaline pumped through his body, his survival instinct still screaming at him to get out. He pulled his arm away from Oliver and stumbled back a few steps. Oliver tentatively let him go, but stepped in between him and the front door to prevent him from running. Connor’s eyes darted around the apartment, looking for any other way to escape. 

Oliver took a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he repeated and he was clearly trying to de-escalate the situation. Connor curled in on himself and eyed Oliver warily, feeling like a trapped animal. Logically, he knew Oliver was good, but he’d been around so much violence lately that his mind was suddenly having trouble reconciling with the idea that there were non-violent, non-murderers in the world too. His heart was racing and his chest felt tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he tried to gulp down some air. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Oliver said, taking a step towards Connor, but panic continued to race through Connor and he instinctively scrambled backwards. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Oliver raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture as he immediately stepped back again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Connor. It’s okay,” he repeated softly.

Connor swallowed, and he couldn’t get out of the apartment because Oliver was blocking the door, but he couldn’t be here either. He needed to get away. So he turned and ran for the bathroom, leaning his back against the door after it closed and taking in deep gasping breaths. 

Slowly, the logical part of brain seemed to turn on again and break up the fog of panic that was clouding his mind. He unclenched his hands that he hadn’t even realized he’d been clenching and he blinked, trying to ground himself to reality. He didn’t know what had just happened to him, but he felt exhausted. He stepped away from the door and splashed some water on his face before sinking down to sit on the edge of the tub. 

A moment later, he heard hesitant footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Connor didn’t wait for Oliver to knock or say anything, and he just reached up and opened the door. 

“Sorry,” Connor muttered to the floor as Oliver looked him over and then tentatively kneeled down in front of him. 

“What was that?” Oliver asked softly. 

“I don’t know.” He bit back tears. “I – I thought you were going to kill me.” 

“Kill you?!” Oliver’s eyes widened. “Connor, what…” 

Connor just shook his head. “I know it sounds crazy. I don’t know why I thought it. I just did.” 

Oliver’s face was lined with concern and worry, but also realization. “No,” he sighed. “What you told me on the couch sounds crazy, but this, this makes sense now.” 

Connor just put his arms on his knees and rested his head in his hands for a moment. Then he looked back up and saw that Oliver was just watching him with a hesitant look on his face. 

“I should go,” Connor muttered. 

Oliver shook his head. “No, you really shouldn’t. Not like this.”

Connor didn’t respond. Oliver shifted to sit next to Connor on the edge of the tub. “I didn’t mean to scare you earlier. It’s just that you were clearly falling apart and I didn’t want you to run out and do something stupid.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Connor tried to reassure him as he moved to get up, uncomfortable at the fact that Oliver was once again sticking by Connor’s side out of pity for his mental state.

“Connor! I don’t want you to go!” Oliver exclaimed and Connor halted his movement, sitting back down and looking at Oliver. Oliver reached out slowly and put a tentative hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m trying to get you to trust me, remember?” 

Connor stared at Oliver as he processed the words. Then he broke a little, a tear running down his cheek as he twisted towards Oliver and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight and crying into Oliver’s neck. “Thank you,” he muttered into his skin. 

Oliver gently pulled him up and led him to the bed for the second time that night, although with a very different and non-sexual intention this time.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered as he laid down next to Connor and ran a hand through his hair. 

Connor buried his face in Oliver’s neck and breathed him in deep as he drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here you go, we're finally here. 
> 
> Funny how this all started as a one-shot from a prompt, and then proceeded to consume all of my downtime. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride. Feel free to send me more prompts at jojoraprompts.tumblr.com

It was supposed to be a happy ever after, after that. That’s how Connor had always envisioned it in his mind. If he ever managed to tell Oliver and Oliver somehow stayed, then their relationship would be solved because the walls would be gone and they could just be happy. 

But that’s not how life works. Connor woke up the next morning and he didn’t know how to feel, but it wasn’t a happy ever after kind of feeling at all. He didn’t really feel much of anything, except vulnerable, like someone had cut into his mind and probed around and examined every single detail of him. He loved Oliver, but that made it worse. His co-workers could know about his dark secrets and it wasn’t so bad, because they had those secrets too. And because they weren’t Oliver. Connor didn’t care about their opinions the way he cared about Oliver’s opinion. Didn’t need them to love him the way he needed Oliver to love him. 

But now, Oliver knew everything, and Oliver’s promises last night felt like a false hope to him. Nobody could just forgive like that. It was too good to be true. 

So as Connor lay in bed the next morning with Oliver’s arms wrapped around him and Oliver’s light snores in his ear, the reality of that weighed down on him and it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

Connor tried not to move, afraid to wake Oliver for fear of having to look him in the eye again after the way his soul had been so wholly and unrestrictedly exposed the night before. It wasn’t the breakdown that rattled Connor. Oliver had seen him break down far more times than Connor would care to admit, especially after he started using drugs. It was the fact that Oliver now could see the dark truths behind the breakdowns. He knew the things about Connor that Connor didn’t even want to admit to himself because they were so terrible. 

He knew, and he might change his mind once he processed it. But even beyond that, the most terrifying thought of all was that before he changed his mind, he was still going to want to talk about it. Because he was Oliver, and he always wanted to discuss these things. The idea of that made Connor want to curl up in a hole and die. So he just lay still, trying to prolong the morning for as long as possible. 

But eventually Oliver woke up. Connor felt him stir and immediately closed his eyes, pretending to still be asleep, and was grateful when Oliver chose to let him “sleep” rather than waking him. He heard Oliver’s footsteps padding around lightly and then heard the shower turn on. 

Connor’s stomach was in knots as he slowly rolled over and then sat up, his muscles aching from trying to lie still for so long. He considered just making a break for it. His stuff was already conveniently packed and by the door, and he could just take it and leave. He didn’t know where he would go, but he was sure he could figure something out. 

He might have actually done it, except he hesitated for too long and the shower had already shut off and the door to the bathroom was opening.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Oliver said as he came out, toweling his hair dry. 

“It’s fine,” Connor shrugged as he moved to get out of the bed and go take his own shower, hoping to get away from Oliver immediately. 

“How are you feeling?” 

And there he was, already trying to discuss it, and Connor cringed inwardly at the question. 

“I’m fine,” Connor replied, trying to sound casual. 

“Connor - ” Oliver started, but Connor cut him off. 

“I just need to shower,” he said curtly, hoping Oliver would take the hint and drop it, but knowing he probably wouldn’t. He walked past Oliver and into the bathroom, turning on the water and beginning to undress. A moment later, Oliver followed him in. 

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly. 

Connor ignored him as he stepped into the shower and began to wash his hair. So, Oliver stubbornly leaned up against the wall and waited. 

After a moment of trying to pretend he wasn’t there, Connor glanced at him and an immense amount of frustration immediately built up inside of him. 

“What?” he spat. “It’s not enough for you to get a front row seat to my fucked up life and an all-access pass to my mental breakdowns? You can’t even let me have a little goddamn privacy while I shower?” 

Oliver gaped at him for a moment before nodding and then silently turning around and leaving. Connor almost felt guilty, but he was overwhelmed and barely holding it together and desperately just wanted to be left alone to process what had happened last night. He took an unusually long time to shower, trying to calm his agitation and avoid the inevitable, but eventually the water began to run cold. 

Once Connor got dressed, he reluctantly left the bedroom. Oliver was in the kitchen, chopping up a tomato to put in his eggs. He didn’t look up at Connor when Connor walked in and Connor knew he was hurt by how Connor had reacted. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor muttered as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

Oliver slowed his chopping and put the knife down, turning to look at Connor. “I’m worried about you,” he muttered. “I don’t know how to comprehend everything you told me or what to do about it. But you’re not fine.”

Connor nodded and looked down at his hands. “I know.” 

“So then talk to me about it,” Oliver urged. 

Connor tightened his lips and fell silent, avoiding Oliver’s gaze, unwilling to continue the conversation.

Oliver sighed and went back to preparing his food, chopping the tomato a bit more forcefully than he had been before. “Do you want some eggs?” he finally asked with a forced politeness.

Connor felt an overwhelming wave of relief now that the subject was dropped, even if he knew Oliver was doing so reluctantly and that it was only prolonging the inevitable. “Yeah, if you don’t mind,” he replied.

Shortly after, Oliver put a plate down in front of him. They were both eating quietly when Connor’s phone started buzzing and he pulled it out to see that Michaela was calling him. 

He answered, and she wanted to know where he had gone last night and if he was planning on coming back to work now. Connor told her to tell Annalise he would be in later today. Then he hung up the phone and turned to find Oliver staring at him. 

“You’re not seriously going back to work?” 

Connor stood up to put his plate in the sink. “Yeah, I am,” he replied tersely, and his tone made it clear that there was no room for discussion on the matter.

Oliver shook his head in pure disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, but Connor spoke first and the words came out slow and controlled. 

“Do you remember, several months ago, when I applied to transfer to Stanford and got accepted and you turned it down?” 

Oliver’s mouth dropped open, because Connor had never even indicated to Oliver that he knew anything about that. He had always acted like he simply thought he had been rejected. 

“Connor, I - ”

“No, don’t. I let it go, Oliver. I couldn’t even be mad at you because I have done so much worse. But the fact is, you turned it down, and now I have to stay at this school and I have to have good grades and a good resume and I have to have Annalise on my side if I want any hope of a future as a lawyer. So yeah, I’m going to work.” 

Then Connor left Oliver there in a stunned silence as he grabbed his phone and keys and left for the office.

The first day back at work was rough. Connor arrived in a bad mood, and it only got worse as the day went on. He refused to talk to any of his coworkers about where he’d been and why he hadn’t been showing up, and luckily Michaela didn’t say anything either. He did have to tell Annalise, though, when she called him into her office. She didn’t say anything about it, just nodded and let him go back out to work.

He spent the whole day feeling absolutely miserable about the way things were left unresolved with Oliver and completely unhappy about the fact that he had to be back at work here at all. He tried to think of the last time his life had just been good and happy, and he honestly couldn’t remember. 

He knew he had just gotten out of rehab, and he was supposed to be aiming for recovery, but being back here made a very, very big part of him crave the drugs again and he didn’t know how long he would be able to fight the desire. He was only three days out of rehab and already ready to text his dealer. 

At the end of the day, he reluctantly but dutifully went back to the apartment, still itching to turn around and go get high. When he got to the front door, however, he paused. His lack of willingness to discuss anything with Oliver meant that they really hadn’t discussed anything. Including whether or not Connor was moving back into the apartment or not. After all, his stuff still remained boxed up at the front door and they weren’t exactly on good terms. Connor didn’t know whether this was his home or not, and if he should knock or just walk in. In the grand scheme of things to worry about, it was a stupid thing to be standing outside the door obsessing over, but he just felt like if he made the wrong choice he would feel so awkward. After a ridiculous amount of time just standing there, and even debating just leaving to go buy drugs, he sighed and knocked.

Oliver opened the door with a confused frown. “You have a key,” he said flatly, and apparently that meant it was the wrong choice and Connor did indeed feel incredibly awkward.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to use it,” Connor grumbled, staring at the ground and toeing the floor with his foot. 

Oliver’s face softened as he let Connor into the apartment. “This is your home,” Oliver said quietly, “if you still want it to be.” 

Connor nodded and felt unexpected warmth in his chest at the words, overwhelmed by how much he didn’t know he needed to hear those words and to see Oliver right now. He reached out for Oliver, pulling him in close and burying his face in his neck, breathing him in. Oliver stumbled a little at the surprise contact, but quickly wrapped his arms around Connor to return the embrace. 

“I’m so sorry,” Connor muttered into Oliver’s skin. 

“For what?” Oliver asked, rubbing a hand up and down his back. 

Connor didn’t answer, because he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for specifically, maybe just everything. Instead, he just sighed and began kissing Oliver’s neck and letting his hands wander. After all, he couldn’t go get high and he needed something to escape to. Oliver instinctively responded by gripping Connor's hips and sighing into the kisses, but then he tensed. 

“Connor!” Oliver protested. “Connor, stop.” He pulled away from Connor and Connor huffed and crossed his arms. 

“We need to talk,” Oliver said seriously. 

“We're better when we're not talking. Every time we talk, it ends really badly,” Connor muttered under his breath as he went to sit down on the couch.

“Yeah, well, that’s because we have a lot of shit to work out,” Oliver said with a gentle smile, sitting down right next to him and nipping at his earlobe, and Connor knew he was trying to coax him into a less hostile mood. 

But drug recovery was fucking hard, and even harder when you had to work with murderers and live with the trauma of those murders and come home to an unstable relationship, so Connor was not easily swayed from his current hostility. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in agitation. 

“Hey,” Oliver said gently and grabbed one of Connor’s hands. “Are you okay?” 

Connor didn’t open his eyes, he just shook his head. 

“Talk to me.” 

Connor reluctantly opened his eyes and reached into his pockets for his keys, phone, and wallet, handing them over to Oliver so that he would have no way to go out and buy anything. “I don’t trust myself,” he said quietly. 

Oliver seemed to immediately understand and took the items quickly, placing them behind him. Then he reached up and brushed a thumb across Connor’s cheek. Connor tensed under the touch, feeling incredibly on edge. 

“Thank you,” Oliver whispered, “for coming home, instead of going elsewhere.” 

He leaned over and kissed Connor softly, but Connor didn't react. So he kissed him again, and then again, until Connor finally allowed his body to relax and Oliver could gently push him to lean against the back of the couch. Then Oliver stood up, taking Connor’s things with him, and went to the kitchen. He came back a moment later with an open pint of ice cream and two spoons stuck into the top.

“I think,” he said decisively as he sat back down, “we will have plenty of time to talk. Tonight we should just watch a movie.” 

Connor gave a small smile as Oliver curled up next to him. He had missed this feeling of being able to just spend time with Oliver, and now that all of their secrets were out in the open, it felt much more genuine. And even though it was only temporary for now, and they really did have a lot more to work out, he suddenly had hope that just maybe, someday, he would get his happily ever after, after all.


End file.
